The Count's World 15: Travels with Bleck
by The Great Allie
Summary: The minions are having fun on the Excess Express, until a strange mystery occurs and the finger is pointed straight at Dimentio or The Count. Who did it? And will they all stick together through the ordeal?
1. 15 dash 1

_Let's try this again... originally I had a very different idea of how this story would turn out that was just... bad. So I tried to change it, but that didn't jibe well with what I already wrote. So I delayed, and tried to ignore it and pretend it didn't exist. But that's not fair. It's not fair to you, whom I promised a story, and it's not fair to the many people who won't see this because they already wrote it off. Then I tried to salvage it, but it fell apart like dried dough that just won't stick together. I needed eggs. I found my eggs._

* * *

One sunny morning in Castle Bleck ('Sunny' here being used in a secondary definition, meaning a pleasant morning where everyone was in a bright mood) Count Bleck had an announcement.

He found his minions in the newly furnished lounge, which Count Bleck had recently conceded to give them. He was tired of the complaints that there was little room for recreation in their castle and thus it was boring; any rebuttals of the Counts reminding of the many wondrous activities that could be found all around the castle were met with loud groans and the now-standard "yeah, but..." So he'd granted them a game room with some amenities- a pool table and a television quickly became the centerpieces, though the television was a gift from the Cragnons and only got their surreal broadcasts. Also equipped was an unstocked cola bar (their cola privileges had been revoked recently, after a rowdy argument over whose dimensional exit was the coolest), an area rug that matched the walls so it looked as if you were trapped in some bizarre sideways dimension, and a video game console with no actual games. Modest, it was, but it made the minions happy for the time being.

O'Chunks had never played pool before but had taken to it quickly. He beat everyone who went up against him except Dimentio, who liked to move the balls around... with magic! They were both playing this sunny morning, while Mimi watched television and Mr. L attempted to hook up the console to see if it actually worked, when Count Bleck threw open the door dramatically and entered, head high, staff behind his back, flanked by Tippi and Nastasia.

"Good news, minions," said Count Bleck.

"Yes!" Mr. L pumped his fist. "Our cola privileges are back!"

"No." Count Bleck grinned playfully and tapped the jewel of the cane in Mr. L's direction. "Not until you've cleaned up the mess you made."

"Yeah, Mr. L," Mimi said.

"All of you," said Count Bleck.

"Me, too?"

"Yes, you!" Moving on, Count Bleck held up a manila envelope. "Do you know what this is, anyone?" he asked happily.

"Clearly, it's a Manila envelope," said Dimentio.

Count Bleck ignored him. "We've been given a gift. Widow Toadly was so grateful to us for clearing the Monty Moles out of her late husband's garden, she's given us permission to use her railway pass for a train trip on the famous Excess Express."

"Trains? Big deal," said Mimi. "Who needs trains when you can warp anywhere you want?"

Mr. L's jaw dropped. "You're kidding," he said. "You don't like trains?"

"No. Why wait a whole buncha hours to get from here to there when I can do it like, pop-pop-pop!" With each pop, Mimi made a fireworks motion with her hands. "Whoop-de-do. Big fat deal."

"Whaddaya mean, pop pop pop?"

"Ah, the unfortunate Mr. L," said Dimentio, hovering from the pool table to suspend himself above Mr. L's head. "Little does he know the joys of moving through the dimensional fabric as if it were the arched doorway of an aged but modestly pleasant turn-of-the-century manor, populated with a friendly house-staff on hand to freshen up your beverage, in-"

"Anyway," said Mr. L, ignoring Dimentio who was obviously no longer listening to himself anyway, "Trains date back hundreds of years, and are essential to understanding the formation of the Mushroom Kingdom, as well as other similar settings in other dimensions. Once cargo shipping and travel were made simple, you could settle in places that wouldn't be practical before. That's how the first Toad settlers came to Dry Dry Outpost. The raw power of the locomotive is amazing really- what they do is-"

"Blah, blah, blah, I'm not in school any more!" Mimi pulled her pigtails down over her hears.

"Why, Mr. L, I had no idea you were a railroad buff," said Count Bleck admiringly. "I myself found them fascinating, and quite exotic for someone raised in a castle in the woods. We ought to compare notes sometimes."

"And anyway," said Tippi, "The reason you go on a train like the Excess Express isn't to get somewhere."

"Oh, so it's pointless to everyone, then?" Mimi lifted one pigtail.

"No, Mimi. The reason people travel on the Excess Express is to take advantage of four days and three nights of high living, plush furniture, fine dining, and pampered living. The Excess Express caters to the famous and rich, you know. Even contemporary actor Zip Toad has taken a trip. Well, not actually, but he meant to, if he hadn't been kidnapped in replaced by a doppelganger."

"Duplighost," said Tippi.

"Duplighost." Count Bleck looked at her. "A duplighost is a doppelganger."

"No," she said, "It's a duplighost."

Count Bleck shook his head, and then held up the envelope again. "All right, who's coming with Bleck?"

"Ah, sounds like a frilly shimnabob, an' I don't want any part o' it," said O'Chunks. "Ey! Dimentio! We still playin' over here or what?"

"...with lacy doilies under the coasters, which under some circumstances would seem snobbish but when executed just right adds a nice touch of class to any room..."

"Yeah, so, I need a head count, then," said Nastasia. "Anyone who plans to go on this mandatory team-building retreat, raise your hand." She held up her hand to demonstrate.  
O'Chunks raised his hand, too. "Mandatory, eh? Ah, what the 'eck."

"I'm in," said Mr. L.

"Me too me too me too!" said Mimi, who'd done a complete 180 in seven seconds flat. Her eyes had grown to the size of mill wheels at the first mention of high living. "What do I wear?"

"Well, it's a turn-of-the-century antique, immersed in it's own history... I'd say anything that comes with a petticoat."

"Want to go petticoat shopping, Nassy?"

Nastasia shrugged. "I think I can pencil you in for a lunch/shopping trip before we go."

Mr. L had sidled up behind Count Bleck and was looking over his shoulder at the tickets. "How'd you score such sweet passes?" he asked.

"You remember Widow Toadly, yes?"

"Yuh-huh?"

"Well," said Count Bleck, tucking the tickets into his cloak, "her late husband was a lifetime railway conductor. Upon his retirement he was given a lifetime pass for his dedicated years of service, entitling the couple to enjoy luxury trips for the rest of their golden years. After he passed, she couldn't bring herself to travel, and instead allowed others to enjoy the benefits of her husband's work. Now, as a rule, we don't take gratuities, but it made her so happy... and it is a lovely train, after all, and a shame to waste such fine passes..."

"You really are a railroad aficionado, aren't you?"

"Yes, admitted Count Bleck."

* * *

Their first sight of the Excess Express was up close, having teleported right into the plaza where the train departed from West Rogueport. All of them were there, of course, carrying a small assortment of luggage (except for Tippi, who couldn't carry it and didn't need it anyway.) It was breathtaking, to say the least. Polished steel, billowing smoke clouds, intricate decor... to attempt to explain the Excess Express to someone who had never seen it could never do it justice. It was even finer recently, having undergone extensive refurbishment to make it snazzier and more excessive than ever, to appeal to an ever-changing market demand and also to fit in with this story. Several pictures were taken by each of the Count's group, because this was not a moment to forget.

"Shall we climb aboard?" asked Count Bleck.

The conductor waved from the platform. "We're boarding now, so come on up!"

Count Bleck presented the pass and explained the situation- Widow Toadly had already called ahead and everything was approved and ready. "Wow, you did that for her?" the Conductor asked while making small talk. "She's such a nice lady, you know, to offer such a generous gift for such a trivial task. We love it when she comes down here to talk, but she just never takes trips anymore."

"Indeed," said Count Bleck. "Perhaps it's for the best. Comfort can be found in the home or on the road, but not for everyone. She seems happy these days, at least."

"That's true," said the Conductor, punching the ticket. "You'll be staying in the red car. You've got rooms three and four. Be careful with room four, it's haunted."

Count Bleck tipped his had, tipped the conductor, and gestured for the minions to board.  
The car where they boarded was magnificent, done up in soft greens and wood finish. The carpet was plain, with a hint of sparkle reflecting the lights from the antique chandeliers and wall fixtures. There were tables with flowers and plants, pictures of old people when they were young, and wood-paneled walls to bring the most experienced carpenter to his knees in tears of joy, such a wondrous creation blessed unto his eyes.

"Oh, snap," said Mr. L.

"By me twinkled chin-hairs..."

"Golly..."

"Oh, goodness..."

Dimentio said, "Tch," and disappeared.

"Never mind him," said Count Bleck. "What do you think?"

"This is first class, right?" asked Mimi.

"Mimi, the entire train is first class."

"Ooooh." She nodded sagely.

"We're in the next car," said Count Bleck. He showed them the door to the next car and how you stepped outside to go between the cars. "See? Simple."

"So... like, are we stuck inside this one car while the train's moving?"

"No, you can cross between cars, with no problem."

Mimi squealed in objection.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it. You'll be crossing like a pro by the end of the trip."  
O'Chunks added helpfully, "Ah, an' if yeh can't bring yerself teh make the cross yerself, I'd be 'appy to 'elp a lass cross between the cars. I'll jes' pick ya up an' put ya down on me other side." He was answering Mimi, but looking at Nastasia when he said it. She just straightened her glasses and said nothing.

Count Bleck took them to the car they were staying in. It had three compartments, both of theirs being mirror images of each other with three beds bunked on a wall, a loveseat, a vanity with mirror, a fancy table, and of course a scenic window.

"I call this room," said Mr. L as soon as he saw it.

"There are seven of us and two rooms," said Count Bleck. "Nastasia, O'Chunks, Mr. L, Mimi, myself, and Timpani. We shall divide in this manner-"

Nastasia raised her hand in a dainty fashion. "Yeah, Count? You kinda left out Dimentio."

"With any luck, he's gone home."

"There's only six beds, though," said Mimi. "What if he comes back?"

"I'll be bunking with my wife," Count Bleck explained.

"But the beds are kind of small."

"So is my wife."

"Ooooh."

Count Bleck turned to Nastasia. "You'll be in my room," he said. "Minions, take the other room."

"What if Dimentio comes back?"

"Then, for goodness sake, don't let him bunk in our room," said Nastasia.

"You can have O'Chunks," said Mimi. "He farts in his sleep."

"Mimi!" Tippi scolded.

"Ach, it means I got a 'ealthy diet o' line-in cuts 'an boiled vegetables. Puts hair on the ol' chin."

"I don't like where this conversation is heading," said Mr. L.

"I think it would be best if we retired to our separate rooms to settle in," said Count Bleck. "Remember to be on your best behavior."

"Yes, Count."

Nastasia pulled her sensible blouses and pantalons out from her suitcase and switched them to the dresser drawer that had been designated hers. Count Bleck was testing the bed by sitting on it and shifting his weight, while Tippi watched them both.

"As an information pixl," Count Bleck asked out of nowhere, "Do you know who will be joining us on this trip?"

"I do," said Tippi. "And here they are:

Errol Herringway, on a research trip for his latest novel, about murders on a railway  
Prince Haru of Fungusland, who happens to be Peach's ex-boyfriend  
Anti-Guy, the most powerful of all Shy guys  
Detective Pennington, returning to Poshly Heights  
Larry, Iggy, and Wendy Koopa, who opted to take a trip here while their siblings went to the beach  
The Ratooey Businessman, on another business trip.

And as for the regulars:  
The Engineer, who loves his job and knows everything about the train  
The Conductor, Clara T., who's saving money for college."  
The Train chef, Chef Shimi. We're not so sure about this one...  
The resident ghost, Ghost T, who haunts the place for no real reason.

Count Bleck applauded. "Impressive. You certainly know your way around a cast of characters."

I wonder what kind of story they will weave, he wondered poetically.


	2. 15 dash 2

Count Bleck was worried about how they would be received on the Excess Express.

Count Bleck's fears, he soon realized, were unfounded.

Their ability to socialize with regular people was not something they were usually able to do. Often times they weren't able to socialize in a way that common people found acceptable. That is, a few minutes into the conversation they would be retelling a hilarious story that took place when they were working towards the destruction of all worlds, and, well, after that the conversation just got awkward.

Now, though, Count Bleck sat in a booth in the back corner, wife resting on his hat, and he watched his minions around the dining car. Everywhere he looked he saw a small group, and every group he looked seemed to be hitting it off famously.

Over the course of the evening, Mimi had developed crushes and subsequently lost interest in Larry, Anti-Guy, Prince Haru, and was now back to Anti-Guy. She was currently sitting across from him, chin rested on hands, staring dreamily at him shoveling rice into his face hole. It was quite uncouth of him, really, he was hardly chewing before gulping down blobs of rice and had grains stuck on his chin and cheeks. She didn't seem to notice, however. Her eyes stared at him with such loving attention, it seemed entirely possible that small read hearts would float out of her head at any moment.

"So," said Mimi, "Whatchya thinkin' about?"

"Rice," said Anti-Guy. "I'm eating, here."

"You like rice?"

"Not as much as lemon candy," said Anti-Guy, clearly trying to brush her off.

Mimi didn't notice. "I like lemon candy, too," she said with a dreamy sigh. "We have so much in common."

"You didn't like lemon candy ten minutes ago the last time I brought it up."

"That's in the past," said Mimi. "All that's left for us is the future, a future full of you and me."

"There is no 'you and me,'" said Anti-Guy. "Scram."

"You'll come around," said Mimi. "I'll make sure of it. Before this trip is over, you'll be impressed with me and you'll be begging to let me be your arm candy."

"Candy?" Anti-Guy looked up automatically, then back down at his food. "Oh."

Across the aisle, Nastasia was seated across from Herringway. They had been discussing literature all night, not very deeply, just feeling out each other's opinions on various genres, periods, and authors.

Now Herringway said, offhandedly, "You know, for someone who's written as many mysteries as I have, I haven't once done the old mystery-on-a-train schtick."

"It is a bit played out," said Nastasia. "You'd have to work hard to breathe new life into it."

"The appeal, I believe, is the nature of the train. A group of strangers thrown together by circumstance, a moving setting that they can't escape from, yet it's not impossible that someone _could_manage to sneak on board... or off. If I ever was inspired to do such a thing, I wouldn't hesitate to pursue it but I wouldn't write it for the sake of writing it."

"Did you ever do that? Write something for the sake of writing it, that is."

"Yes," said Herringway thoughtfully as he stirred his drink. "It's a part of paying your dues as a young author, and we all start out with dues to pay. Many of my earlier books I've allowed to fall out of print because I was never happy with them."

"I wondered why I had such trouble finding them."

"'Had' such trouble?" Herringway said, amused. "As in, you did find them? Or you realized it wasn't worth the effort and gave up?"

"I found them," said Nastasia. "When I was stocking the library for the Count, one of the things I thought would be a nice touch was to locate the complete works of Herringway. I had no idea it would be such a task."

"Indeed it is," said Herringway. "I don't think even _I_have the complete works of Herringway anymore. Have you picked up my latest, by the way?"

"Yes," said Nastasia. "I think it's far better than the critics would have you believe."

Herringway waved his flipper. "Pah. Critics. I never listen to them. They praise the height of pretentiousness and wouldn't recognize true genius if it bit them on the beak."

"You don't care for your critics?"

"I haven't read my critics in twenty years," said Herringway. "They're either sucking up to me because of my status as a writer or else trying to take me down a peg. No one reads my books for the sake of reading them anymore." He paused in thought. "I'm thinking of getting a pen name. A _female_one. Then we'll see."

"I wondered if I might ask you some questions about the book," said Nastasia. "Unless, you know, you don't want to think about work while you're on vacation."

"A writer is never away from work," said Herringway, "not when the work is in his mind. Go ahead. I don't usually do this, but then, I'm trying to take a break from my reclusive habits."

Herringway's latest novel was about a man having an affair, and his mistress grew so jealous of her lover's wife that she murdered her, but then was driven mad by apparitions of the wife's ghost which may or may not have been solely in her head.

"I was just wondering," Nastasia said, "whether or not it was necessary that it turned out the way it did."

"How so?" asked Herringway.

"Well, the wife dies, of course- and when the mistress loses her mind, the man ends up losing everything too. It's..."

"A bit of a downer ending?"

"Well, yeah."

"The husband isn't blameless in this," said Herringway. "He betrayed the trust of the one he promised to love for the rest of his life. He didn't murder her, but what he did was just as bad, in it's way."

"What I meant was, why was there no chance to turn it around?"

"There was every chance," Herringway said, still hunched over the table. He straightened up and shook his flipper, trying to fight off a cramp. "Read it again, and you'll see that he turned away at every chance he had to set his life right. When he stayed devoted to the homewrecker, he became poisoned by her."

"I suppose my life has left me more inclined to take the mistress's side," said Nastasia. "The marriage was loveless, in any case."

"Yes," said Herringway, "and the wife was a bit of a harpy, but she didn't deserve to be lied to. She didn't deserve any of what she got."

"No. She deserved better than a man who would lie to her, who would break the most important promise ever made to her, and she didn't deserve to die the way she did."

"And that's why it couldn't end any other way."

Nastasia nodded. 'Life doesn't have any happy endings, either."

"Life only has one ending, and that's death. Which means as long as your alive, you can change the course of events. When a book ends, it's over. I was never much for sequels, although I don't look down on them- but life is constantly being written. In fact..." Herringway produced a pen from under the table and began scribbling on a paper napkin (though most were cloth there were a few fancy paper ones) "I've just got a marvelous idea for the beginning of a new story."

Dimentio appeared above the table. "You'll have to accuse the sad sack of an administrator we have," said Dimentio. "She's acting much like I would expect the 'other woman' to behave."

"I'm not the other woman," said Nastasia. "I'm out of the equation and I've moved on."

"You're feeling sorry for a fictitious murderer," said Dimentio. "I'd say you're still working some things out."

Detective Pennington waddled up to the table. "Aha! So that's where you've got to!"

Dimentio groaned.

"Stay close," said Pennington. "I've got my eye on you."

"Why do you insist on following me like an abandoned terrier who is hopeful that he's found a new companion?"

"You're an enigma," said Pennington, "and if there's one thing that Detective Pennington can't stand, it's an unsolved mystery."

"Well, you enjoy working this out," said Dimentio. "I"m off to Dimension 'D' to enjoy some well-deserved 'me'-time." He clicked out of the dimension, much to Pennington's disappointment. He waddled away sadly, passing the booth with the Koopa Kids on his way out.

"There goes the weirdo," said Larry.

"Which one?" asked Wendy.

They all laughed.

Mr. L popped up from under the table. "I found your fork," he said to Wendy.

"Gross," said Wendy.

"So anyway," Iggy said, "I had my own castle, right? Dad said, 'Take Good Care of it, Lemmy, you know how long it takes to make the goombas build another one?' And I said, 'Dad, I'm Iggy.' And he was all, 'I know that. Just don't let Mario stomp it to the ground like the last one.' And you know what? The _very next day_ he smashed it to the ground."

"Mario is such a _pain,_" said Wendy. She was busy painting her nails, but still engaged in the conversation.

"I know," said Larry. "Always jumpin' around, knocking stuff down and bein' a drag." Larry had one earbud on the side of his head, so he could listen to Motörhead in one ear and the conversation in the other.

Mr. L never thought he would have anything in common with the Koopa Kids, but it turns out that they had a lot of shared experiences, even if they were on opposite sides. Besides, it was nice to talk to some of the few other people on the planet who didn't think Mario was the greatest thing since sliced shrooms.

"You know he wouldn't be half as great without his partners," said Wendy. "He's always got some star spirit or wind-up toy following him around had sharing the burden. He hasn't been on his own in years."

"Even then he wouldn't have been half as good without his brother," said Mr. L.

"Ugh," said Iggy. "Let's talk about something that's _not_ Mario-Brothers related."

"That's easy," said Wendy. "There's, like, a zillion other things we can talk about, why does it always come back to him?"

"It always seems to come back to him," said Mr. L.

"It's like he has a gravitational pull that drags everything back to him," said Iggy.

Larry elbowed Iggy. "Was that a fat joke?"

"It wasn't meant to be, but it totally is, isn't it?"

"Yeah," said Wendy. "At least the green one isn't fat."

"Luigi," said Mr. L.

"Yeah, yeah," said Wendy, "we all know you're Luigi in a black mask."

"Really?"

"Duh," said Larry. "It's kind of _really_ obvious."

"Huh," said Mr. L. "Mario never noticed. Not until Dimentio announced it to all the world and dimensions."

"Mario's pretty full of himself," said Iggy. "He's got his head up his overalls too far to see anything beyond his own mustache."

"Someday someone's gonna show him the world doesn't rise and set on him," agreed Wendy. She blew on her nails lightly, then frowned. "Aw, man, the polish is clumping."

"Wait a minute," said Luigi, "that's not exactly-"

"It's true," said Iggy. "He can't come out on top forever."

"Yeah," said Larry. "That's just math. Like, statistics. You know? Ooh, I love this riff!"

Iggy leaned over and grabbed the other earbud. "I love this song!" he squawked.

Wendy rolled her eyes. "You and your Motörhead. Give me the Plasmatics any day."

"Punk is punk," said Iggy.

"You know I'm right," said Wendy. "I mean about Mario."

Luigi shrugged.

"Say it," said Wendy.

"You're right?"

"No, say about your brother."

"I'm not gonna say that."

"Because it's not true?"

Luigi didn't open his mouth.

Wendy waved the nail brush at him. "A-ha," she said definitively. A bit of pink nail polish got onto the counter.

"Watch where you're flingin' that," said Iggy.

Wendy rolled her eyes and ran a cloth over the drip.

Uncomfortable, Luigi looked around for anyone to save him from this conversation. Everyone else, though, was still busy doing the activities that have been previously described. Even O'Chunks was involved. He and the Ratooey Businessman were sitting at another booth, heads together, talking in low tones. No idea what they could be discussing, but as long as they involved than even they wouldn't be coming to his rescue.

Luigi sighed and turned back to the kids. "Look, let's just not talk about Mario."

Over at the head of the dining car, Count Bleck was standing proudly, watching his minions interacting. Tippi rested on his hat.

"I'm glad you talked them into this," said Tippi.

"I'm glad I did as well. I'm glad it's _going _well."

And remember how wonderfully it seemed to go the night before, for in the morning, things would be far, far different.


	3. 15 dash 3

"Time to get up, Blumiere," Tippi whispered as she perched on the center of his face.

Count Bleck made a grunting noise of disagreement and rolled over onto his side. Tippi fluttered up to avoid getting squished and landed back down on his shoulder.

"If you don't get up soon, breakfast will be over," said Tippi. "They have a Fruity Shroom Plate and a tasty Love Noodle Dish."

Count Bleck threw the covers aside. "Oh, very well." He got up, swung his bottom cape over the side of his bed, yawned, stretched, stood up, and fell down. "This bed is a bit faster than the one back at home, eh, dear?"

Tippi laughed. Count Bleck adjusted himself, held out his crooked elbow, and Tippi fluttered down by to it. They walked down the cars together, as if they were an ordinary couple arm in arm. They moved on down to the dining car, where Count Bleck expected to encounter the merriment of the night before. Perhaps a bit more sleepy, but he had no reason to expect the abject coldness and hostility that greeted him in the dining car.

He was aware of whispering as he stepped through the doorway and slid it closed behind. Then, abruptly, the whispering stopped. Count Bleck looked up and saw, at the far end of the dining car, each passenger that was not one of his was was staring at him. He couldn't read the faces, but he understood that something wasn't right with them. He gave a halfhearted wave and they all looked away, as if he shouldn't know by now that they were staring at him. His own minions were piled into a booth, all quiet with dour looks. There were five plates of untouched breakfast on the table.

Count Bleck picked up an Omelet Plate and a fork. "What has Count Bleck missed?" he asked before taking a bite.

"Yeah," said Nastasia. "So I got an urgent memo for your in-box. Yeah, it looks like we're about to be downsized from the train."

Count Bleck choked and snorted out the half-chewed egg into his napkin. "Excuse me," he mumbled as he politely tucked the napkin out of sight.

Though all of the minions were still looking slumped and dejected, Mimi still had enough spirit in her to say, "Gross."

Count Bleck ignored her. "What's the damage?"

Nastasia gestured to the window. "We're not on our way to Riverside Station anymore."

Count Bleck looked out the window and frowned. "We're not?"

"No," she said. "Apparently we're near Moo Moo Fields."

"That's... not anywhere near where we're supposed to be heading, yes?"

"No," Mr. L said. "Riverside Station goes by a dried-out gorge that used to be a river. That's not a good place for raising Moo Moos and Li'l Oinks. The rail lines between them was actually built so the resources from the gorge could be transported to the ranch, so that the ranch could benefit from the resources but have access to fresh water. The line was built in 1897, to bring economic prosperity to the farms.

"Goodness, you really do know a lot about the railroads," said Count Bleck. "Such a knowledgeable minion."

"Thanks," he snapped back.

"You all very tense, observed Count Bleck. May I assume that we are the ones being blamed for this?"

Nastasia nodded. "Bingo."

"And... may I assume that this isn't the case?"

"Of course it isn't!" The minions said this in some form or another all at the same time, except for Dimentio who was hovering over the table and eating a gravy biscuit.

"We would never do that," said Nastasia. "But that's not going to fly with the staff, because they don't know us like you do. I said I would never do such a thing. I have no work order to do such a thing."

"And I can't even warp meself, let alone this behemoth," said O'Chunks.

"Same here," said Mr. L.

"And I wanted to go to Poshley Heights!" Mimi said, slapping her hand down on the table from from propping up her chin. "Why would I ruin that?"

Then, one by one, they all looked up to Dimentio, still enjoying his biscuit. He was smiling, pretending to be oblivious to the stares he was getting, now from his own in addition to the sneaking glances from across the room. Someone would have to actually address him.

Count Bleck cleared his throat. "Dimentio," he said, a bit knowingly.

"Yes?" Dimentio was ever cheerful.

"Are you responsible for this?"

"Am I," he said. "No, dear Count, I assure you that I am not."

Count Bleck nodded.

"Oh, come on." Mr. L waved his hand. "Do you seriously believe him?"

Count Bleck and Dimentio made eye contact. Dimentio, momentarily, adopted a very serious look before turning back to his biscuit.

Slowly, Count Bleck said, "I trust you, Dimentio."

"Why?" The question came from all the minions at once, though with Nastasia it was more of a look.

Count Bleck had never told a soul, not even his wife, about his conversation with Jaydes after Nawrocki had been vanquished back in Weapons and Redemption. For the longest time he had visited her, how he waited for the day she could have a meeting with him, hoping to find a peek at her scales, to see if he could ever redeem himself. Never getting an answer.

Then that day he found out Dimentio was seeking the same thing. Ever since that day, he'd seen Dimentio in a different light. All of his actions were the same, but suddenly his intentions weren't so black-and-white.

Dimentio snapped the Count back to reality by saying, "Pardon me, do I have a bit of gravy on my delightful ceramic mask?"

"I thought that was your face," said Mr. L.

"I never said it wasn't," said Dimentio, wiping his mouth.

"Gross."

Count Bleck took Nastasia's hand, causing her to blush automatically. "Come with me, Timpani. Nastasia. Let's have a meeting."

O'Chunks pushed himself up, tipping the table and booth seat. "Eh? Meeting? Yeh need us teh get our pedestals ready?"

On the other end, Mimi and Mr. L caught the table, though some breakfast was lost to their laps. "Hey! Watch it!"

"Not yet," said Count Bleck over his minions. "Just... try to enjoy the train." With that he was gone with his wife and assistant. As soon as they were gone, Dimentio disappeared.

The second he was gone, the remaining minions huddled. "I don't trust him," Mimi hissed. "I don't care what the Count says."

"Aye," O'Chunks nodded. "Ah mean, far be it from me teh be doubtin' me Count-"

"Oh, of course not!" Mimi squealed.

"But it's Dimentio we're talkin' about."

"Why would he do this, though?" Mr L was just sort of thinking out loud, but his question certainly got answered.

Mimi snorted. "'Cause he's evil. And crazy. And Dimentio." She huddled them closer. "So, let's not let him spoil this for us. We'll show the Count that Dimentio hasn't changed, and we can stay on!"

"Right," said O'Chunks. "We'll jus' show the Count that he- ah mean, that his... ah, his judgment... isn't... eh..." Then he buried his face in his arms on the table. "Ah jus' can't do it! Don't yeh see? 'Ow can we second-guess a man as great as Count Bleck? I feel like I ehn't no better than me beard crumbs!"

Mimi reached over and patted his shoulder. "Oh, come on. It's okay. We don't have to if you don't wanna." Then to Mr. L, she whispered "He's such a drama queen..."

Mr. L nodded.

Someone at the head of the table made a throat-clearing noise. All of them looked up and saw Detective Pennington. He was dressed as the absurd detective stereotype, as if he was none other than the great Sherlock Holmes. If you'd met him, you'd certainly know better.

"Pardon me," said Pennington. "I couldn't help but overhear your dilemma. Am I to understand that one of your accompanies is responsible for the current predicament of the Excess Express?"

"Yeah!" said Mimi.

"Prob'ly," said O'Chunks.

"We assume so," said Mr. L.

The other two murmured an agreement.

"Worry not then, dear passengers," said Pennington proudly. "With your hot tip, I shall not have to gather clues, only evidence. Leave it all to me." He waddled away, quite pleased with himself.  
O'Chunks folded his hands behind his head and leaned back. "Well," he said, "That takes care o' that."

Nearby, Dimentio was hanging out by the ceiling of the Excess Express, chuckling to himself. "It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data," he said to himself. "Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts."

* * *

"First things first," said Count Bleck. He slid the door to the compartment closed before turning to face Tippi and Nastasia. "I am taking Dimentio at his word for this, until we find any other evidence to support otherwise."

"Fine," said Tippi.

"I'm on board," with Nastasia.

"Thank you."

"You seem to have been bonding with him lately," said Tippi.

"Bonding?"

"Well, maybe bonding isn't the right word..." Tippi thought for a minute. "But you used to ignore him and brush him off and now... you're sort of treating him like one of your own."

Count Bleck felt a bit touched, for some strange reason. "Yes, well... you know how it is."

"Yeah," said Nastasia. "I know how it is."

"We need to find out what's happening," Count Bleck said, now businesslike again. "Nastasia, Tippi, I want you to find the passengers and talk to them as best you can. They might be more inclined to open up to you two. As for myself, I'm going to talk to the engineer and find out exactly where this trip went wrong."


	4. 15 dash 4

Herringway ran into Pennington in the train car.

"A-ha! Where are you going?" Pennington demanded. "Off to hide evidence?" He poked Herringway in the chest with his magnifying glass.

Herringway rolled his eye. "My boy, I believe you've been reading a few too many mystery novels."

"There's no such thing," said Pennington. "How could you even say that? You, an author of such great acclaimed works?"

"Because I imagined them, and that's all it really is- imagination."

Pennington narrowed his eyes. "If I didn't already have a suspect," he warned.

"Oh, you have a suspect then?"

"As if you didn't know- you're hiding evidence for him."

Herrignway spread his flippers. "How, exactly, am I doing that?"

Pennington glared at him. Finally, he said, "I'm watching you."

Herringway shrugged and stepped past him, then continued to waddle on down the train.

Pennington then went to Room 2, where the minions had gathered. Mimi, O'Chunks, and Mr. L were. As soon as they saw him, they jumped up.

"Well?" Mimi blurted out. "Did you find any clues?"

Pennington chuckled. "Oh, my dear Mimi, as if you didn't already know," he said smugly. "I'd like you all to meet me in the Accusing Car, for I believe this mystery on a train runs surprisingly deep."

* * *

"Tell me what happened last night," said Count Bleck to the Engineer.

The Engineer was standing at the controls, looking out the window at the track in front of him. Even though the track was unfamiliar, he was ever vigilant and ready to take care of the situation with the ease of a professional. A good engineer knew his tracks, but a great engineer could drive the train regardless.

"Well," said the Engineer, "Clara T. is an engineering student. She's in college, you know. So on long trips, I let her take third shift for college credit. She sleeps in the late afternoon, early evening, and she relieved me at 11:00. I was in bed until six."

"I see, said Count Bleck as he wrote quickly in his notebook- oh, dear, I didn't mean to write _that... _Well, then... and when you woke up, the train was somewhere else?"

"No," said the Engineer. "Actually, I looked out the window to see if we were on the right route, and we were. I went to go tell Clara that I would be ready to take over as soon as I ate something... then I went to the kitchen and ate something... And when I came back, we were in the fields."

"Did you experience any missing time?"

"Uh, pardon?"

"Missing time- a phenomenon when the mind loses large periods of time without missing any chunks. For example, a man goes to get the mail just before lunch and comes inside to find he's late for dinner."

"No, nothing like that."

"Did you experience any physical sensations? Tremors, chills... things normally associated with dimensional travel as reported by those people who aren't accustomed to it."

"Well, I did feel a weird quake, like an extremely mild earthquake. It was a little different than the usual move of the train. I know these things because I know my train. I guess the one you want to talk to is Clara T."

"I did, said Count Bleck truthfully. She claimed that the train was on the correct track when she handed the train off to you. She went to powder her face, and when she came out, well, here we were."

The Engineer shook his head. "No... no, it was like this before. I remember because we were talking about it. I asked her what happened, and she was saying it wasn't her fault. I guess she thought I would tell her professors and they would ding her grade, but there's no way she could be this poor at driving a train." He chuckled. "Like, no matter how bad you are at cooking, you can't put a roast in the oven and come out with pancakes."

Count Bleck chuckled as well. "Bleh heh heh... well, yes, that is true."

"I don't understand, though," said the Engineer. "Why would she change her story?"

"I can't say."

"You believe _me,_ though, don't you?"

"As of right now, I believe it doesn't make a difference as to which of your stories is closer to the truth." He looked up, realizing that he had said the wrong thing, and quickly said, "but of course I believe that you're telling the truth."

The Engineer shrugged. "It's no spot off my cap, really."

* * *

Nastasia found Dimentio up on the roof of the train. He was sitting down, leaning back against one arm, his back to the wind. The train was moving slowly, but still the wind whipped fiercely around them both.

"I don't know why I thought to find you here," said Nastasia.

Dimentio didn't turn around.

"You know that Count Bleck and yourself are the only two who would be able to pull off such a feat."

Dimentio rolled his neck. "Don't sell yourself short, my dear."

"Are you telling us everything?"

Dimentio didn't answer. He shifted his weight from one hand to the other, and then wiped the cheek of his mask.

"Dimentio." Nastasia's voice was firm.

"No," said Dimentio. "I rarely if ever tell you everything."

"Are you admitting responsibility?"

"No."

There was a long, awkward pause.

"Dimentio."

Dimentio sighed. "I came up here to be alone." He stood up and straightened up his poncho. "I should know better. If I want to be alone, better to go to Dimension D. All right. I will tell you this: I am not responsible for what has gone on here tonight. I may have had my little role to play, but then again, we all have in one way or another. I made a decision, and now I will own it."

"And what decision was that?"

"To protect the Count," said Dimentio.

"How are you going to protect him?"

"I grow tired of dancing around with words." Dimentio sighed. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. Right now I don't know of anyone else who can take care of this."

"Dimentio-"

Dimentio swayed, and fell backwards off the train. Nastasia dove, and hit the edge just in time to see the last of his box disappear- he'd gone to Dimension D.

Nastasia groaned inwardly.

* * *

Pennington had O'Chunks, Mr. L, and Mimi in the Accusing Car. They were all seated on an ornate sofa, and Pennington himself was pacing up and down the room, peering through his magnifying glass as if trying to magnify the truth itself. The minions, however, were confused, as he had not yet said a word since his initial, "Harumph."

Mimi cleared her throat. "Yeah, so... um, are we going to, like, do anything or just sit here?"

"You've all already incriminated yourself," said Pennington. "The others will be here soon, and then I'll be able to unveil the very last piece of evidence that convicts you." He leaned over and plucked a hair out of Mimi's pigtal.

"Ow!"

"That wasn't the evidence," he said, "but I will need to analyze this with something found at the scene, and it will help to put you behind bars. Where you belong."

"Big deal," said Mimi, "I'll just warp away."

"An' I'll bend 'em," added O'Chunks.

"Yeah," said Mr. L. "And I'll... um... walk out behind the bars after he bends them."

"Nah," said O'Chunks, "we'll be in different cells."

"What, really? Why?"

O'Chunks shrugged. "It's just the way they do things."

"Aw, man, that stinks."

"It's okay," said Mimi, "after I warp out I'll post bail."

"Hey, thanks!"

"Don't thank me just yet- you'll need to pay interest on those rubees."

"What are your rates?"

"22%."

"With those rates, you'll be going right back to jail, because that's just criminal is what that is."

Pennington stared blankly at them.

Count Bleck, during the conversation, had appeared in the doorway and was watching with mild amusement. "Welcome to my world," he said.

Pennington turned around and saw the Count. "A-ha! You got my summons!"

Count Bleck floated into the room, followed by Tippi and Nastasia. Behind them were the passengers: Haru, Anti-Guy, Ratooey, Herringway, Larry, Iggy, and Wendy. Clara T. was also there, as was Ghost T, floating behind the pack, clutching his diary to his chest.

There were enough ornate sofas for everyone to sit down comfortably.

"I trust you know why I have summoned you here."

"To the Accusing Car?" said Larry sarcastically. "Gee, I wonder why."

"Why do you even have an Accusing Car?" asked Anti-Guy.

"Please," said Herringway. "It _is_ an antique train. Mysteries on them are a dime a dozen.

"Now." Pennington cleared his throat. "I've discovered something disturbing during my research. Though only two of you had the ability to move the train, all of you had motive to disrupt its trip. In fact, before the night is over, I will reveal more than one criminal involved in all of this!


	5. 15 dash 5

Pennington paced up and down in front of the chairs in the Accusing Car. "So," he said. "Every one of you had the motive to disrupt this train trip, is that right?"

"What? No way!" said Wendy.

"That's stupid," said Larry.

"Is it? You and you! Two of Bowser's children, sent away on a separate vacation from their father."

"It was our idea," said Iggy.

"Your idea, eh? Your idea because you were tired of your father always overlooking you. You, the middle child, always ignored in favor of the accomplishments of the eldest, and the needs of the youngest. Maybe you wanted a little attention? And you, Lemmy-"

"Larry."

"- the youngest, trying to prove that you're not the baby of the family, to get your father to take you seriously." He turned to the third Koopa Kid. "And you, Wendy, daddy's little girl. How long can you stand to be his little doll, his perfect princess? It makes you want to rebel!"

"So? That doesn't mean I did anything!"

Iggy tilted his head sideways and looked at his sister. "Wait, wait. Do you mean he's right?"

"I didn't do anything!" Wendy shouted.

"But you don't like being daddy's girl?"

Wenty covered her mouth. "I never said that!"

"No," said Iggy, "but there were a lot of other things you should have said right there."

"But it's not all childhood pranks." Pennington pointed his magnifying glass to Anti-Guy. "You. You've been a joke ever since you traded your ultra-rare Power Plus Badge for a piece of lemon candy. Now all the other Shy Guys think you're a joke."

"That's not true!" Anti-Guy jumped up.

"You've got to do something big to prove to them that you're still the strongest Guy in town. Something like, oh, say, _moving an entire train!"_

"Look, I'm not even that strong, okay?" Anti-Guy protested. "I mean, yeah, I can kick your caboose every which way but loose, but a train weights in the _tons,_ okay? I can hardly pick it up and drag it hundreds of miles away, and even if I could, you'd all have woken up."

"No, but you could have paid someone to do it and took the credit!"

"That would hardly restore my honor then, would it?"

"No, no it might not. But the Ratooey Businessman didn't have any honor at stake, did he?"

Ratooey straightened up. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you. You're traveling to Poshley Heights to meet with the board of directors of your company. They chose you out of all the other employees because of your stellar work on the Hot Sauce Project. Little did they know that your work was only exemplary because you could perform it shut up in an office by yourself all day. Now they want you to make a speech, in front of some of the most powerful businesspeople in the industry. The fate of the entire company, and your future, is riding on this. You'd do anything to get out of speaking in public, wouldn't you?"

Ratooey hunched his shoulders, looking at Pennington without being able to answer him.

"But you know that if something happened that wasn't your fault, nobody could blame you for missing the speech, could they? You could have faked sick, but you were never a good actor. You could sabotage the train, but you didn't want anyone to be hurt. So just ask a favor of the group that tries so hard to do good turns to save their reputation. It couldn't hurt, right? But it did!"

"That's not true," said Ratooey in a barely audible voice.

"Of course, it's silly," siad Pennington. "It's much more likely that they were doing a favor for... _Errol Herringway!"_

Herringway straightened up. "Me?" He couldn't hide his amusement at the accusation.

"Don't play innocent with me. You took this train trip because you needed a break after publishing your last book. But things aren't going so well for you, are they, Herrignway? Your last book was a market flop, and your previous ones have been steadily declining in quality. Now you've got writer's block worse than ever before. You needed something to write about. You've always said that ideas are cheap, the success of a story is in its execution. So you set up your very own mystery, right here. You picked a train with a diverse cast of characters, the kind of people that show up in your books. Royalty, businessmen, troubled kids, aristocracy... whatever happened, you could turn it into a book that would revitalize your career, put Herringway back on the literary map! You even said your next book would be a mystery on a train!"

"No," said Herrignway patiently, "I said that I would never do a mystery on a train unless I thought I could bring something new to the table."

"I would say that this is indeed something that hasn't been done before!"

"Yes, but it would make a terrible novel. And how would I end such a novel, anyway? Certainly I wouldn't incriminate myself in order to sell a few books."

"Of course not. You didn't expect I, the great Pennington, would suspect you. All the blame would go to the Count and his jester!"

"Then there's no intrigue," said Herrignway. "If everyone thinks that Count Bleck or Dimentio did it, and it turns out that Count Bleck or Dimentio did it, then it's not a very interesting mystery, is it?"

"The twist is that _they both did it!_"

Now Herrignway was trying very hard to stifle his laughs. "That is, withotu a doubt, the worst twist I have ever heard."

Dimentio leaned over to Count Bleck. "Did he just say I was your jester?"

"Aren't you?" said Count Bleck.

Dimentio hesitated, and then leaned back the way he was.

"Of course, how could I forget Prince Haru of Fungusland." Pennington turned to the prince.

Prince Haru looked at him in mild mock-surprise. "Who, me?"

"Don't think I don't know your sordid past. Many years ago you were engaged to the Princess of the Mushroom Kingdom, our very own Princess Peach. But Bowser wanted her as well, and he turned you into a dog! Sure, you went and got the hero Mario to save her, but at the end of the day you were restored to your normal state, all set up to finally marry the princess. You didn't count on her falling in love with Mario, and eventually breaking it off with you to pursue a relationship with him. Bitter and angry, you've been a supervillian ever since, just waiting for the day when you can reclaim her heart!"

Prince Haru held out his left hand, showing a small silver band on his ring finger. "You would be wrong," he said. "I'm married to Miss Rosie of Flower Fields. We've re-planted her in Poshley Heights, because she wanted to be around people who weren't flowers and, therefore, weren't as beautiful as her, but still be in a place of beauty."

Pennington looked surprised. "Whoa, really? You're married?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Oh, well, congratulations."

"Thank you."

"But!" Pennington turned serious again. "I'm not out of suspects yet! How about Clara T., the conductor who's training to become an engineer! A big disaster that happens on someone else's shift, swiftly taken care of by her? That's enough to get her an 'A' in any train classes she may be taking!"

"Except that she doesn't know how to solve this problem," said Herrignway.

Count Bleck stood up. "May I speak?"

Everyone turned to face him.

"All these accusations are well and good, Count Bleck said, but they don't come anywhere closer to solving this mystery than we already are. Whatever the motive any of us have for this, the fact remains that neither I nor Dimentio am responsible for this, and we're the only ones here who could do such a thing."

"But that's exactly my point!" Pennington crowed. "If, and I'm not saying I believe this even a little, but _if_ you two weren't responsible, than one of these suspects had to find outside help, another party with the dimentional warping ability to do this. Only the guilty party knows who it could be!"

"Count Bleck is... surprised to hear you say that."

"Of course, I still think it was Dimentio."

"It's okay," said Mimi. "We all do."

"Which is exactly why I know it _isn't_ him!" Pennington pointed his wing around the room. "As far as I'm concerned, everybody's guilty until we find out who really is."

The lights of the train dimmed, and then came back to life. Now Ghost T. was floating in the middle of the room.

"Hey guys," said Ghost T.

Mr. L hid behind O'Chunks.

"So, yeah," said the ghost, "I didn't want to say anything before because I knew you guys would take it out of context, but the guy who physically moved the train? It was Dimentio."

The crowd gasped and began to chatter excitedly.

Dimentio looked uncomfortable.

"Yeah, but it wasn't his idea. I'm only telling you this because the train is about to get sucked up into the void, and you might be able to deal with it better if I come forward with this."


	6. 15 dash 6

First there was silence.

Then there was panic.

The passengers scrambled desperately to find a place to hide, crashing into each other all over and making the entire car a room of chaos. Then the ground started to rumble, far more than could be caused by the chaos inside.

Nastasia let out a shrill whistle. "Everybody settle down!"

Everybody stopped immediately, but the rumble of the train and the roar of the void outside were already loud, so it was far from quiet.

"Dimentio, can you help us get them out of here?" Count Bleck asked loudly.

Dimentio held up his hands. "Everybody on the floor! Lie down, it's important that you do this!"

The ground gave an almighty quake, and some of them involuntarily fell to the ground, but no one did so on purpose.

"Dimentio!" The Count's voice was pleading.

"Everybody down!" Dimentio yelled. He looked at Count Bleck, his eyes just as pleading as the Count's voice.

Count Bleck read something in those eyes, and he turned to everyone else. "Down on the ground."

"But Count Bleck-" Mimi protested.

"That is an _order,_ Mimi!"

The minions got down flat on the ground, and the passengers followed suit.

The noise and the shaking grew louder and louder. Count Bleck squeezed his eyes shut tightly, too afraid to wonder what would come next and preparing himself for the worst, so that he would be able to better lead.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. The shaking slowed to a stop, and afterward it was so silent that Count Bleck could feel his ears ringing. Everybody stayed on the ground, too afraid to get up. Count Bleck raised his head and saw Dimentio floating up in the air.

"What's happened?" asked Herrignway, face to the ground.

Dimentio floated over to the windows and looked out. "You're not going to like this," he said.

Count Bleck got up and looked out the window. Outside was a barren wasteland, purple and black all over the ground and the sky. It was a lot like Dimension Bleck, before he had built the castle there. The sky was patched in squares like the void had been, but they hung still instead of being sucked up.

Dimentio held his hands up. "I didn't do this."

"Did you have anything to do with this?"

"To do with what?" It was Wendy who actually asked the question, but it was on everyone's mind.

Count Bleck turned to the passengers. "Nobody panic."

"That means something's wrong!" Larry shouted. "We're all gonna die!"

"Aaah!" And everybody started to panic.

"Nobody is going to die!" Count Bleck said as loudly as he could over the din.

"Well, eventually, _everything_ dies," said Dimentio. "It's a natural part of the life cycle."

"Dimentio, now is not the time!" Nastasia warned. Then she lifted her glasses up.

_BYOOOOORT!_

"All hail Count Bleck!"

"Great," said Nastasia. "Now you go do that in your own rooms on the other cars."

As the other passengers filed out, Tippi fluttered close to Nastasia and said, "This won't help win them over to our side at all, you know."

"Yeah, but right now we have something more urgent on the to-do list."

"Dimentio," said Count Bleck, "Can I see you outside?"

"Very well," said Dimentio. "Meet me on the roof in five seconds. I'll be waiting! Ciao!" He disappeared immediately.

Count Bleck shook his head, then disappeared as well.

"Boy, you sure know how to empty a room."

Nastasia turned around and found herself face-to-face with Ghost T.

Mr. L squawked and jumped behind O'Chunks. Apparently in the panic about the train getting sucked up, he'd forgotten there was also a ghost to be afraid of.

"Yeah, apparently I can't hypnotize ghosts," said Nastasia.

"Lucky me," added Ghost T.

"Now, what you were saying before the panic started? About Dimentio physically being the one to move the train? Yeah, so I'm going to need you to go ahead and explain to me what you meant."

* * *

"It's like this," Dimentio said as the Count re-appeared behind him. "Decisions were made by certain people, perhaps not the best ones, but that's all in the past. The past is an absolute, something that cannot be changed."

"I'm familiar with what the past is," said Count Bleck.

"I've noticed lately that you seem to... I'm not sure what word I should use... it's not _like_ me... it's not _count on_ me..."

"Trust?"

"That will do. I've noticed you've been doing a lot of that lately. I don't know why, and frankly, I find it very strange and unnerving. Yet I found that I could not stand to lose it, when it seemed possible."

Dimentio stopped, but Count Bleck didn't make a sound. He was waiting for Dimentio to get it all out in his own time, and asking questions or commenting may further derail him, or worse, make him think that it wasn't worth it to continue. His patience paid off, because Dimentio continued.

"You see, it started not too long ago...

* * *

Dimentio liked to read. His favorite book was, of course, the Dark Prognosticus. Count Bleck could never hide it from Dimentio, because unknown to the Count, Dimentio had a connection with it that transcended all conventional bonds, one achieved from their long, rich history together. Indeed, at some points in history it seemed like their destinies were intertwined to a near inseparable degree. Long had Dimentio chronicled his actions and fates, though the book gave him little in the way of spoilers.

Dimentio never took the Dark Prognosticus when Count Bleck was in his castle. He would wait until the Count was out with his wife, or meeting with important leaders in other dimensions, or discussing problems that needed to be solved with the representatives of said problems. That's when Dimentio would take it and steal away to some quiet, out-of-the-way dimension in order to be alone.

Normally he went to Dimension D, but that day he craved sunshine. Sunlight was nonexistent at Castle Bleck, and usually that suited Dimentio just fine. Today, however, he had a strange longing for the light and warmth created by a bright, nearby star. He chose the now-abandoned Hooktail Castle in Petal Meadows, and sat on top of the tallest tower.

He did not come here to look for prophecies of the future. Rather, he flipped the book to the very beginning, and read as slowly as he possibly could. He was reading the prophecies that had already come to pass, the accounts of dynasties brought to an end, of entire civilizations that vanished and left no trace of their ever having existed save for a small passage in this dark book.

Why? Who could say? Not even Dimentio was sure why he was compelled to peruse the ancient listings. Perhaps he was looking for a reminder of who he once was. Perhaps he was seeking out an answer as to why his plans had never failed. Or perhaps he wanted to keep the past alive in some way.

In any case, it was a very engaging activity. Dimentio didn't even realize the miasma was behind him until it swallowed him up in a dark, noxious cloud. Whatever it was choked him and enveloped him in itself, and he struggled to break free. Finally he was able to repel it into pieces with a burst of his magic.

Dimentio caught one piece of whatever it was as a large clump of it hurried away. He looked close. It was a grayish, clover-shaped blob with two bright yellow eyes in the center. It struggled and popped free from his pinch, then went off to join the rest.

"A smorg miasma," Dimentio had decided. The smorg had been created in a lab by the X-Nauts and sent after Mario and his partners at the time. Though that one had been defeated, it was likely that there were more smorgs that had been made by the X-Nauts, and it wasn't too unlikely that they would have gotten loose after the organization fell.

Then Dimentio realized he felt a little... lighter and unencumbered.

The book.

_It took the book._

Dimentio took a quick look around his feet to see that the book wasn't just lying forgotten off to the side. It couldn't have fallen anywhere else on its own. Quick as lightning, Dimentio took off in the direction the last of it had gone off in, but it had disappeared without a trace.

* * *

Count Bleck listened patiently. Dimentio stopped, but Count Bleck knew he wasn't finished because it didn't explain how the train had moved or why it was here. When it became apparent that Dimentio wasn't going to continue, Count Bleck prompted, "What happened next?"

"You must understand, Count," said Dimentio, "that I wanted to go to you for help. Truly I did. But how was I to explain to you that the Prognosticus was gone, and have you believe my story? And to lose the trust that I was so accustomed to having at this point...

"Well. Next, then. This was only two days before you received the tickets from Widow Toadly. Shortly after you received the letter, I received one of my own. I'll never forget what it said: _You will get the Prognosticus back when you do a favor for us._"

"It didn't say the favor?"

"No, that came later. Last night, in fact. I found a letter that said, _Move the train to these coordinates before sunrise._ I searched for clues. I watched the others. I tried to find out where the letter had come from. I found nothing, not a trace of a hint as to where a clue might even be. Finally I knew I couldn't delay any longer. Just as the conductor and the engineer were switching off, I gathered up all of my power...

"And now I realize I was being manipulated, just as I once manipulated you." Dimentio held his palms up. "Whoever it was never intended to give the book back. He could only open a portal here, and he used me to move us. And he still has the Prognosticus."

Count Bleck nodded. "Is there anything else you need to tell me?"

"Yes," said Dimentio. "Just one thing."

"And that is?"

"I'm sorry."


	7. 15 dash 7

Just below Bleck and Dimentio, the minions were having a discussion of their own.

"You're sure?" Mimi asked Ghost T. for the zillionth time. "You're absolutely, positively, a hunnerd percent sure?"

"I don't know how more sure I can be," said Ghost T. "Dimentio was skulking around the train all night- and I really can't think of another word for it other than 'skulking.' Just between shifts. He has the timing of a wizard."

"Hey," said Mr. L from behind O'Chunks. "Nastasia? Didn't you once say that the only people your hypnotic powers didn't work on were Count Bleck and Dimentio?"

"Yes, I do recall mentioning that at one point."

"Wait," said O'Chunks, "does that mean yeh could hypnotize me?"

"And me?" Mimi added.

"I suppose I could brainwash you both into loving and obeying the Count."

"Wait, how do we know we're not already brainwashed?" Mimi asked.

"That's a rather existential question," Nastasia replied. "For all you know, you could be brainwashed under the conditions that you think you're acting under your own free will. In the end you'll have to search your soul for the answer that, at the core of it all, you're secure with where you are and how you're living right now. Then the answer won't matter."

Mimi and O'Chunks blinked at her, then they looked at each other.

"Look," Mr. L cut in, "being brainwashed isn't that bad. That's how I fell into this gig in the first place, remember? And remember how happy I was back then?"

"Oh, yeah, that's true," said Mimi.

"ANYway," said Mr. L, "Like I was saying-"

"Yes," said Ghost T., suddenly right next to Mr. L. "Everybody pipe down and listen to Mr. L.

"Ack!" Mr. L ducked an hid on the other side of O'Chunks. O'Chunks picked up Mr. L by the back of his collar. "I ehn't no here-we-go-round-the-mullberry-bush."

"But the ghost..." Mr. L whimpered.

O'Chunks turned around to face Ghost T. "'Ey, you, ghost. This guy 'ere," and he held out Mr. L, who had his knees locked together and his hat pulled down over his face, "is phas-mo-phobic. So keep yer distance. I can't chunk a ghost but don't think I won't look fer a way how."

"No problem," said Ghost T. "I'll go float over here in the corner." And he went and did just that, hanging there and watching the action.

O'Chunks put Mr. L down on the floor. Mr. L didn't move. O'Chunks nudged him. "Go on. You were saying?"

Mimi looked up at O'Chunks. "What's phas-mo-phobic?"

"Fear o' ghosts."

"Where'd you learn that?"

"Word-a-day calendar."

Nastasia cleared her throat, and Mr. L jumped up. "Oh! Yeah! I remember what I was talking about now. So, like, you can't brainwash the Count or Dimentio, right?"

"Right," said Nastasia.

"And Dimentio has powers that are beyond the reach of even Count Bleck, isn't that true?"

"Yes..."

"So what if _Dimentio_ has been controlling_ the Count_?"

Just then Tippi returned from checking on the rest of the passengers to make sure they were all relatively safe and that Nastasia had removed her hypnotism. The room went dead silent as soon as the minions saw her.

Tippi, aware that everyone had just suddenly stopped talking, stopped in midair. "Er... did I interrupt something?"

"Oh, jeeze," Mimi whispered. "What if she doesn't know?"

"Or what if he got to _her_, too?"

"What's got who, now?" Tippi fluttered in closer.

"Nothing!" Mimi chirped at the same time as Mr. L said, "Not Dimentio!"

"Oh, dear, this again," Tippi said with a sigh.

"Yeah," said Nastasia. "This again."

Mimi explained, "We were having an existential discussion about the nature of brainwashing and the effects it has on your ability to enjoy your life, and wondering whether or not some of us had that power over others without certain others knowing it."

"... Were you really?"

"Kinda sorta, yeah."

Herringway tottered in now, obviously following a way behind Tippi. However, he was mostly unnoticed as Count Bleck and Dimentio reappeared. This caused quite a stir in the minions, who seemed to scatter and re-assemble in an instant.

Then the train started to rock violently. A deep, booming voice echoed all throughout the dimension: "**WE HAVE IMPRISONED YOU IN A DIMENSION OF OUR OWN CREATION. GIVE US WHAT WE WANT OR YOU WILL BE OUR PRISONER HERE FOREVER."**

Detective Pennington poked his head in as well. "You'd better give him what he wants," said Pennington. "I have a family I need to get home to."

"You don't have a family," said Tippi (as an information Pixl, she knew these things.)

"Well, I have to get back to Poshly Sanctum and guard the Crystal Star."

"It's not there anymore," said Tippi.

"Well, I have to... be... a detective some more..." He hung his head. "I just get lonely."

Dimentio hung his head out of the window. "I thought you had what you wanted!" he shouted.

There was a pause, and the booming voice replied: "**YOU SPEAK OF THE BOOK? I LAUGH. WE ONLY WANTED TO BOOK AS A MEANS TO GET TO SOMETHING GREATER.**"

"The book?" Mr. L asked. "What's he talking about-" But he was immediately hushed by Count Bleck.

"What could be greater than the book?" Dimentio wondered out loud as he pulled his head back in.

"What book is he talking about?" Mr. L whispered to O'Chunks and Mimi.

"Well, there are only two books that Dimentio cares about," said Mimi, "and I can't imagine this is all over my diary, so..."

Then all three of them gasped.

Mimi pointed straight at Dimentio and shrieked, "You did this! You did this!"

"No, no, I didn't- I never-"

"An' ta think the Count trusted yeh! Well, 'e might 'ave, but I never did!"

"I swear to you, O'Chunks! I give you my word-"

"Oh, yeah, and what's that worth?" asked Mr. L.

"It... I admit it isn't worth as much as it might be..." He glanced helplessly at Nastasia. She just frowned and turned away.

Tippi fluttered close to Count Bleck and whispered, "You'd better do something."

Count Bleck nodded.

But it was Errol Herringway who stepped in. "I cannot believe what I'm seeing here today!" He brought himself into the middle of the room, and though he was very small, his presence drew the attention of everyone. "If I were your Count, I would be ashamed to call you my minions." He pointed to Pennington. "And you- you should be ashamed to call yourself a detective, even if it is only a silly hobby."

"Silly hobby! Why, I never-"

"Since this morning I have seen nothing but mistrust among partners, lies and rumors, and digging up the worst of people and putting it on parade. Your sham of an interrogation proved that. You don't care about facts; you care about stirring up drama, and you leech off of other people's personal troubles and accusations to make yourself look like smartest bumpity in the room. You don't want to solve mysteries, you want an audience."

Thoroughly browbeaten, Pennington hunched down and waddled into an unoccupied corner.

"And you," said Herringway, pointing to the minions. "You accused this one from the beginning, but you stood loyally by your Count."

"Dimentio tried to destroy the whole world!" Mimi insisted.

"So did your Count," said Nastasia.

"But the Count changed," said O'Chunks. "Or, actually, he changed _back_."

"Did you ever think that there might be something for Dimentio to change back to?"

"No, he's always been bad," said Mimi. "Always."

"Is that true, Dimentio?"

Dimentio looked from Herringway to Mimi to Count Bleck, then to Ghost T. who was still in the corner. Ghost T. waved. Dimentio took a deep breath. "I can't remember," he replied quietly. "I don't think so... but it's been so long." Slowly, he sank to the ground. He tugged at one of the bells of his jester cap uncomfortably. "This is my fault, anyway."

"No, it's not," said Count Bleck.

"Yes it is," said Dimentio. "It is because it wouldn't have happened without me, and it could have been stopped before now if I'd just spoken up, and- and maybe the reason I brought it out in the first place was because I wanted _something_ to happen. I don't know what. I don't know. Perhaps I'm just tired of trying to be something I'm not."

It felt good to finally say that out loud.

"I have it on good authority," said Count Bleck slowly, "that Dimentio has been trying very, very hard to change."

Dimentio looked up at Count Bleck, surprised.

Mimi scoffed. "From who? Him?"

Count Bleck shook his head. "Greater even than that." He picked up Dimentio off the floor and set him on his feet. "Come outside with me, Dimentio," said Count Bleck.

"Well," said Nastasia as Bleck and Dimentio left. "Whoever it is outside wants something on this train. What could be valuable?"

Pennington cleared his throat. "Erm... if I may speculate?"

Herringway raised a bushy eyebrow.

"I mean..." His voice was free of pompous arrogance now, and he spoke in a very reserved manner. "It could be an enemy of Fungusland wanting revenge or ransom... or an enemy of King Bowser wanting the same... or maybe a powerful enemy trying to get rid of a powerful fighter."

"See," said Herringway proudly. "Isn't it much more civil when you say it that way?"

"Since when does a mystery writer care so much about civility?" Mimi looked surprised.

Nastasia put a hand on her hip. "If you read his books, you'd see."

There was a timid knock on the door. Everyone looked at each other, uncertain, and then Nastasia went over and opened the door. The Ratooey was hunched over, looking like she'd just caught him about to sneak away. He straightened up and clutched his briefcase to his chest. "Oh! Um... hi. I- uh, that is, I... I think I know what they want." He held out his briefcase.


	8. 15 dash 8

Up on the roof of the train again, Count Bleck stood firm. He was squeezing Dimentio's hand, partly as a gesture of comfort and partly to keep him from escaping. Count Bleck took a deep breath and then bellowed into the void, "Tell us what you want!"

After a pause, the voice returned: "**THIS DOES NOT CONCERN YOU. GO BACK INTO THE TRAIN.**"

"It does concern me," the Count called back, "as I am on this train as well."

Dimentio glanced around, then stood up on his toes and whispered into the Count's ear, "It's coming from over there."

Count Bleck turned to the left and squinted. "What are you looking at?"

"This dimension isn't very big, but there's a thick purple haze," Dimentio said, "and it makes it look like we're alone for as far as the eye can see. But I can see through dimensional trickery like a seasoned behavioral psychiatrist observing his patient through a two-way mirror."

Count Bleck floated off the top of the train and down to the ground. He beckoned for Dimentio to come with him, and they both traveled forward very slowly. Soon Count Bleck could make out a round shape hunched over. He hoped that it did not see them.

"**IN ONE MINUTE I WILL RELEASE THE SMORG!"** The booming voice was even louder than before.

Count Bleck reached through the fog and tapped the shape gently.

"Buh!" The shape jumped up and spun around.

Count Bleck's jaw dropped. _"Lord Crump?_"

"What are you doing here!" It was Lord Crump, formerly of the Secret Society of the X-Nauts, in all his goggle-faced, red-caped, purple-horned, black-bodied white-Xed glory. "You weren't supposed to leave the train! It's a void out here!"

"This is exactly like my dimension," said Count Bleck.

"Not that it matters," said Lord Crump. "I'll just release the Smorg anyway! Buh! Buh huh huh!" He stepped aside to reveal a large, shaking treasure chest. "Go, MIASMA!"

The treasure chest opened in a flourish, and Bleck and Dimentio were momentarily blinded by a swirling mass of deep gray. When sight returned, they saw it was already enveloping the train.

* * *

As soon as the Smorg grabbed the train, it began to shake.

"What's going on?"

"Aah!"

"Help!" Ratooey cried. "It's got me!"

_Schlurp_. He was sucked right into the heart of the writhing miasma, pulling him down its long body through the passages of the train.

Count Bleck zoomed into the room. "What did it do?" he demanded.

"It took the Ratooey!" Tippi shouted over the din.

"Chunk it!" Bleck shouted.

"I'm on it!" O'Chunks agreed.

"Why him?"

"His briefcase," said Nastasia. "Yeah, so he was transporting some important samples of experamental hot sauce for further testing."

"Hot sauce? This is about hot sauce?"

"It's so hot it explodes!" shouted Mr. L.

Dimentio appeared beside the Count. "With the dimensional revealed to him through the Dark Prognosticus and the prototype of a powerful new explosive he could revive the X-Nauts to their former glory and finally accomplish their old goal."

"I seriously don't believe it," Mr. L continued. "It was about him this whole time."

"Mimi, can you attack this thing?"

"On it! Mimimimimimimi!"

"Seriously, I never would have seen it coming."

"Mr. L! Scramble on the outside and pull the passengers out of the train through the windows."

"Oh! Right."

Count Bleck lifted up his hat. "Timpani, follow him and tell him who's in which room."

"Sure thing, my love." She fluttered up to him and gave him a quick peck before they parted.

"Nastasia, watch the bumpitys."

Pennington was already hiding behind her, as she was completely stationary. Herringway was pressed against the far wall, glancing up frequently from his notebook on which he was scribbling in shorthand.

"What shall I do, Count?" asked Dimentio.

"Surprise me," said Bleck. He put one hand over his mouth and nose area, closed his eyes, and dove into the miasma.

"Count, it looks like _you_ just surprised _me_."

Inside the miasma it was hot and stinky. A thousand wriggling tickles touched him all over his body. It was almost exactly like being in a pit of restless snakes or spiders, and if Count Bleck was a naturally phobic man this would have been the end of him. The smorg moved with a natural current, though. Bleck felt it out and went downstream like a baby salmon.

Soon he could hear a tiny voice whipering. "Help... please help me..."

"Keep your mouth closed!" Bleck called through his hand. "You don't want to know what these things taste like!"

Ratooey whipmered.

"Comin' through!" Bleck heard Anti-Guy shout. Suddenly the patch of Smorg next to him exploded, and he saw the shy guy's black mask looking at him. He was surprised to see Bleck "Anyone else in there I should know about?"

"I'm going for Ratooey," said Count Bleck before the smorg swarmed back over the empty patch.

"I'll try not to hit you!" Anti-Guy called as Bleck smorg-swam away.

Further up the train, he heard loud karate shouts. "Yah!" "Hi-yah!"

"Not like that, doofus, use your magic."

"Sounds like the Koopa Kids are making themselves useful," thought Count Bleck as he moved past the shouting, trying to avoid any stray koopa blows.

"Daddy is going to flip out when he hears about this," said Wendy Koopa.

"He's gonna be so proud," said either Iggy or Larry, Count Bleck couldn't tell the boy's voices apart.

In the engine of the train, Count Bleck popped out of the mess. There was Ratooey, clutched tight near an assembly of purple smorgs making up a sort of head for the hive mind. "Help me!" he whined pitifully.

"Don't worry, you're perfectly safe." Count Bleck didn't expect to hear Dimentio's voice here, but darned if it wasn't right above him. And with Dimentio there to provide it, of all things. Dimento looked down at Count Bleck and smiled. "Did I surprise you, my Count?"

Count Bleck smiled back. "Not a bit."

"Hi-ya!" Iggy Koopa, launched by a heave from O'Chunks, flew into the room and landed shell-first into the heart of the smorg. Anti-Guy came flying in second, though under his own power. This hit knocked Ratooey loose, and Count Bleck dove and caught him.

The treasure chest came flying through the window, smashing it open for Lord Crump to then leap dramatically through. "You can't stop the smorg!" he cackled gleefully. "Nothing can stop the smorg!"

"Except for Mario," said Anti-Guy.

"Oh, yeah," said Crump.

Count Bleck set the shaking Ratooey gently down on the ground.

"Too bad you forgot one thing when you stole that evil book," said Dimentio airily.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Crump sneered.

"That _I have read it, too!_" Dimentio threw his arms out. The dimension seemed like it was spinning, then, suddenly, rapidly, the individual smorg started to disappear.

_Schwing! Schwing! Schwing! Schwing! Schwing!_

In the empty space where the smorg once was now stood the Engineer, spitting out something from his mouth.

All the passengers were here now, all the minions and train workers. They formed a tight, unbreakable circle around Lord Crump. "Oh, crump," he mumbled.

"Shall I send him to where I sent the smorg?"

"No," said Count Bleck. "Throw him out of the train- and then let's get back on track."

O'Chunks picked him up by the arms and hurled Crump out the nearest window. As he flew through the air he called, "If Grodus asks be sure to tell him I triiiiiiied...!"

* * *

For their services to the railway, Count Bleck and co were awarded the Golden Spike Award for their service to the Excess Express. All the passengers arrived safely at their destination, and in one piece. After five days in Poshley Heights, the group returned to Castle Bleck. No further incidents happened on the way back. However, there was one small exchange that took place between Count Bleck and his minions, sans Dimentio, on the last night of the train ride, as they all sat in the same compartment.

"You know," said Tippi, "We haven't figured out what this means for us and Dimentio."

"I don't believe anything should change," said Count Bleck idly. "He will always have his own agenda, and us ours."

"But should we trust him?" Mimi asked.

"Give him the benefit of any doubt," said Count Bleck. "When mistrust drives a wedge and suspicions run high, we can be no better than Detective Pennington and his random accusations. Yet it would be foolish to disregard his past actions, taking nothing of his history into account. It's prudent to look back as you go forward."

O'Chunks scratched his head. "Eh... yer not makin' any sense, Count."

"I suppose I'm not."

"I think Count Bleck means we should let Dimentio do his own thing and not assume he's playing us all like puppets."

"After all, said Count Bleck, it was neither Dimentio nor Lord Crump that turned us against each other. Would we have been able to see this coming had we not been distracted? Probably not. In any case..." He tapped his chin with the jewel of his cane as he thought. "You've proven recently that you can be very mature... and the mess has taken care of itself... when we get home, I will restore your cola privileges on a trial basis."

"All right!"

"Yeah!"

"Whoooo!"

"And next time, we'll take the Warp Zone when we need to travel."


End file.
